
3Imiu;iKMt erocto.l in Court House yarl Fulton, Mo, by 
lU V. W. H ]!iri liniu 




ASSACUS 



OR 



^ OEATH OF GAPT, 



BY 

WILLIAM BOCKS RIGG 




LEADER PRESS 

New Florence, Mo. 






^2> 



CopyrisliteQ 1918 
W. B. Rigg. 



CGLA314959 



iLLU STRAT i NS. 



monument 
wildwood 1812 
privates' grave 
prairie fork 
a lone waste 
the sepulcher 

"wild WOOD" 1912 
SALEM RUINS 



§LXXXIII. 
§ LVIII. 
§ XC. 
§ XC. 



Frontispiece. ^ 
p. 10. '^ 
21.v^ 
27.^ 
36.^ 
45. v' 
69. '^ 
60. ^ 



OONTENTS, 

PART I. NATURE. 1. 

PART II. PASSION. 11. 

PART III. VENGEANCE. 33. 

PART IV. DESTINY. 57. 

PART V. REVELATION. 67. 



connissioN. 

Go on thy mission of story. 
Thou child of my metrical mind: 

Nor hope for a passage hut glory. 
Since thou art what thou wilt find. 



DBDI CATION 

To T. 1-. Cardwell, lifelong friend, 
At whose suggestion fifth part took 

Its present form, 1 now extend 
The dedication of this book. 

^J'he Author. 



PROKH. 

No fact iliat is Icnowii to tlie authoi' discloses 
Kelatifni of him and this Lioiitonant Piigg: 

But the ghide where the dust of the Captain reposes 
Is familiar to mind as the leaf to the twig. 

And his infantile ears full oftentimes tingled 
At the stories of blood that the aged could tell; 

When the wine, reminiscence, in rivalry mingled. 
The feats of their heroes wonld wantonly swell. 

The task. then, was pleasant to wea\e in their story 
A fabulous one of the Pequots' remains. 

But no hint that is false therein sullies their glory. 
Xor omission of ti'utli theii' memory stains. 

'Tis a blending of colors to l)etter attract 
'1 he eye of the I'eader and soul of the man: 

riiat the redmau's a fancy and white one a fact. 
Without an exception, throuout the whole plan. 



SASSACUS 



Part 1. 



SHE fading sunset's golden hue 
Supplaced the even's azure blue, 
And palely cast its somber beams 
Across the wooded hills and streams, 
Before its last departing ray 
Should mark the passage of the day, 
And in the stars' pale, silvery light 
Resign the throne of Earth to night; 
When, thru the boughs of stately trees - 
That rustled gently in the breeze, 
And sighed, as if their hearts within 
Were burdened with the curse of sin. 
And held the privilege to think 
And from their spirits' sorrows .-shrink - 
Upon a scene of savage woe 
it east its final paling glow. 



SASSACUS OR 



II. 

Its rays belit a virgin land, 
Uncultured by the people's hand, 
That, building for a nation's pride, 
Strew desolation every side 
Upon the beauties Nature gives 
Where only Nature's offspring lives. 
III. 

The rolling river, rippling rill, 
The grassy plain and timbered hill. 
All smile in gladness, praise to sing 
To Lord and Master, Maker, King. 

IV. 

Down just between the hillock's base 
And where the river's waters trace 
Their onward current to the sea, 
Beneath a large, outspreading tree, 
A child of Nature, stoic, still, 
Stood, looking toward the shadowed hill 
Upon his face no sign of pain 
A place his will allowed to gain; 



•DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 



For pity, passion, pleasure, pride, 
All are his people wont to hide: 
E'en tho the very soul be wrung, 
A sterner care must guard the tongue. 

V. 

That savage breast contained a heart— 
A soul to claim eternal part 
With those of better favored lands 
To whom God gave His own commands; 
A mind to know, a love to feel, 
A life to live and fate to seal, 
A thought to please and part to do 
As sacred as are these to you. 
And if that part be ill or well, 
Who is the judge with right to tell? 
Can he with ignorance his own 
Essay to that he 's never known? 
Can he who never saw a Hght 
Dptermine when 't is day or nio-ht? 
(Dr he who never knew a law 
Dis(^ern a simi3ie inati net's flaw? 



SASSACUS OR 



As well to say that God has made 
The sun to shine and moon to shade, 
Because the greater orb of day 
Can dim the lesser light away. 
As well to say the mountain height 
Was made the lower plain to blight, 
Because its caps of melting snow 
Are undirected in their flow 
Until by man's inventive hand 
They fructify the arid land. 

VI. 
Such thoughts as these did not oppress 
His mind. A wild and dire distress 
Surged madly thru his massive frame 
And wrung his heart with pain, while 

shame 
For what by him could not be turned, 
Deep in his haughty spirit burned- 
Pride of a nation's vaunted strength, 
That fawning policy thru length 
And breadth of all a wide ranged land 



DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWA Y. 5 

Had courted at his fathers' hand. 

The price of peace, prosperity 

Of thriving burg, celerity 

Of justice in the hunting wood 

For plenty of the wild man's food 

For frail pappoose and burdened squaw. 

Were but the gifts to might as law. 

And he, the heir to such a race, 

Must turn his back, conceal his face. 

And seek in solitude and shame 

What once his right of birth would claim. 

VIL 

Sassacus, a hero's name 
'T is thine the privilege to claim; 
But tho the heart be thrice as brave, 
Where are the hands thy fate to save? 
Resistance made thy namesake great. 
But served thy people's strength to break. 
Till thou, a prince of royal blood. 
Must share the shewolf's scanty food, 
Thy wigwam in the welkin find, 



SASSACUS OR 



And make thy bunk of Nature's kind. 

VIII. 

As thru long years he thus had strayed, 
To care unknown and unallayed 
The deeper yearnings of a soul, 
That, empty, ever longs to hold 
That which is not nor ever can 
Be had, as is the wont of man, 
There, thru it all, one stood to share 
The everything Fate brought to bear, 
Till each had come to feel the other 
More as himself than as a brother. 

IX. 

But now the numb of death's deep chill 
Has calmed the unsubmissive will, 
And called to halt the light, swift feet. 
That time had never made retreat 
A minimum of strength nor speed 
Thru all their years of trying need; 
And here, where falls the call of heaven. 
As unprepared, the heed is given. 



DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 



A hut of sticks o'erthatched with bark. 
And where within was damp and dark, 
Upon a fur stretched on the ground, 
A king- his dying bed had found. 
Wanderers from their land of birth. 
And strangers to the men of Earth. 
He iind his nephew here alone, 
For years no other friend had known. 

X. 

And now the hour of death was near, 
He bore no weakly pains of fear. 
As woe in life had been his own, 
He shrank not from the great unknown, 
But, trusting in a greater Power, 
Most meekly waited life's last hour. 

XL 

When Night had mounted to her throne. 
And all the world seemed hushed and 

lone. 
Before the forest fiends should break 
Their bestial babel. Earth to wake, 



SASSACUS OR 



The silent watcher on the hill, 
So long in meditation still, 
Turned slowly, with a prince's pride, 
And sought his kinsman's bed inside. 

XII. 

Within the wigwam, dank and dark, 
A slender flame from sticks and bark 
Threw out a kind of somber haze, 
Where darkness overcame its rays 
Above the cold, recumbent form 
This earthly heat could never warm; 
And seated low beside the couch, 
While taking from a leathern pouch 
The herbs from which he steeped the teas 
That Sachems taught would pains appease, 
Young Sassacus, in stoic calm. 
Essayed to seek a healing balm 
For this dear life— by nature dear. 
Yet brought by troubles thrice as near. 

XIII. 

The silent figure seemed to move. 



DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 



What! did that gesture disapprove? 
The lifted hand forbids to make 
What failing- life can never take, 
Then, rising on a palsied arm, 
Reclines his head upon the charm 
That keeps the spirit in its home 
Until its final moments come; 
And in the failing voice of death 
Disclosed this tale v/itb sobbing breath: 







Part II. 

PASSION, 

XIV. 

9 • /% Sassacus, Sassacus, son of thy 
sire, 
Whose heart is a furnace, whose 
veins 
flow with fire, 
Behold from thy wigwam a brother is 

gone; 
Go forth on the mountain and weep for 

thy own, 
Tuspaquin has fallen and gone with his 

race 
To rest in the light of the Great Spirit's 
face. 

XV. 

"Thy people were mighty, but mightier 
came. 



12 S A S S A C U S OR 

Who have robbed thee of all save thy 

manhood and name. 
And, now I am going-, thy steps are alone 
Of all the great Pequots the ages have 

known. 
Then walk in the glory that others have 

made, 
Which is meet to thy soul as is cool to the 

shade; 
And go as thou hast when thou wentst by 

my side 
Thru all of the perils that us did betide, 
Till, coming, at last of thy mission to tell, 
Depart from this sphere with thy fathers 

to dwell. 
But hearken in earnest the words I would 

say 
Before the brave's spirit is taken away; 
For even is here and approacheR the 

night. 








js^ 



g«*-^J 




>.. 
















DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 13 

When from the cold body the spirit in 

flight 
Must seek a new hunting ground, happy 

and blest, 
Where game will be plenty, my wigwam 

the best, 
And, back from the ranges, light-hearted 

and free, 
I'll rest where Teweelema ever will be, 
And dwell in the sun of the Great Spirit's 

smile, 
While I train to the sports fair Tewee- 

lema's child. 

XVI. 

''Then take to thy breast all the pain I 

have borne 
To revenge on thy foe every wound that 

is torn 
In the heart that was near thee in chase 

or at war: 



14 SASSACUS OR 

For thy life is for naught but thy foe's 
life to mar. 

XVII. 

"Long, long moons ago. ere the pale- 
faces came 

To convert all the red people's pride into 
shame. 

There lived a great people, whose war- 
riors of blood 

Were as many to count as the leaves of 
the wood; 

Whose mai'dens— as many -sang songs of 
the chase 

When they brought of its fruits to the 
Great Spirit's face, 

Beseeching his bounty that ever had come 

To favor their needs in their wild forest 
home. 

So the squaws of the wigwam were gen- 
tle and fair. 



DEATH OP CAP'T CALLAWAY. 15 



And the prize of the hunt they were fain 

to prepare 
For the lords of the mountain, the woods 

and the plain, 
Who the might of their tribe with the 

bow did sustain, 
Ere the palefaces' fire shed its glimmer 

of doom. 
And its thundering voice spoke the red 

race its tomb. 
But the \vhite people came, and the In- 
dian, a friend, 
Saved the lives that would take all he 

had in the end. 

XVIII. 

''So the braves that despised what the 

weaker ones bore 
Went away to a home on the wild ocean's 

shore, 
Where they built up a tribe that the Pe- 

quots was named. 



16 S A S S A C U S O R 



And the first chief they knew, whom his 

valor had famed. 
Was thy sire, and his own is the name 

thou dost bear, 
For the blood in thy veins from his own 

thou dost share. 

XIX. 

'"His warriors were mift'hty and brave- 
ly opposed 

The rapid advance of their pale featured 
foes; 

But the strength of the re<iman all lay in 
his arms. 

So could not withstand all his white 
brothers' charms 

In the battle, nor his prov>'ess at war, 

For foemen when brothers the bitterest 
are. 

So Sassacus' son was then driven to roam 

Afar from the haunts of his fathers' old 
home. 



DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 17 



XX. 

"His young men were few but were 

faithful in heart, 
And preferred roaming Hves to their 

weak brothers' part. 
Who remained in the shade of the white 

people's frowns, 
And were made but the serfs of the 

country of towns. 

XXL 

' 'So these few with the maidens who 

shared in their lot. 
Moved away to the West where the white 

man was not. 
But the braves fell away in the fight and 

the chase. 
While no son's growing hand came to fill 

up their place; 
And the squaws did repine and their 

spirits were sad 



18 SASSA CUS OR 

For the things that were not that their 

infancy had. 
Till at length of the host but a warrior 

remained, 
Who his lineal descent from this chieftain 

obtained. 
So this man to the tent of the Foxes re- 
paired, 
And the warmth of their wigwams in 

charity shared; 
And he came to be great, for so great 

was his blood. 
Till he ruled in the tribe of these men of 

the wood. 

XXII. 

"But his wigwam was lonely, his veni- 
son undried, 

Since no squaw of his people e'er sat at 
his side. 

When the even grew shady his wigwam 
was still. 



DE ATH Oh CAF"! CALLA WAY. 19 

And the heart of his bosonri with yearn- 
ing- was ill; 

So he spoke to the chief that his daught- 
er was fair, 

And desired she would come to his sohtude 
share. 

She looked on the brave who was mighty 
in name. 

And was proud to be wife of this 
warrior of fame. 

XXIIL 

'*The sons that she gave to succeed to 

his place 
Were the sole living men of the proud 

Pequot race. 
Who could count their descent from tiie 

first mighty one. 
That was king of his race at the rise of 

the sun. 
Your father was first of these sons who 

were two. 



20 SASSACUS OR 

And the other, myself, leaves the race 
now in you. 

But no hope can I hold more from you 
there will spring, 

For no squaw to your lodge happy child- 
ren may bring. 

Since the Foxes are broken— must soon 
know the fate 

Of the Pequots, altho' now their Black 
Hawk is great. 

And the squaws of the Sacs now bemoan 
for the brave. 

Who no more bless the homes that they 
perished to save. 

Their tepees are empty, their warriors 
are gone, 

The maidens are faded, and children un- 
known. 

While the few that are living vv'ould curse 
with the breath 






p ft* 

o; 3' 

If 



cc 



»: 




DEATH OF CAF'T CALLAWAY. 2l 



That is falling away in the numbness of 

death 
Every thought that would spring in the 

innermost soul 
Of villages happy in pleasures of old. 
Every one now must engage in a chase 
That is ruled by the power of the Great 

Spirit's face, 
Till the last one will die as the beasts of 

the field 
With but Death by his couch when his 

spirit shall yield, 

XXIV. 

"And so must you, Sassacus, son of 
your sire, 

Unless at the hands of your foes you ex- 
pire. 

Then swear by the shades that have gone 
on before 

From the heroic deaths of your fathers 
of yore. 



22 S A S S A C U S OR 



Whatever may come, you will keep in 
your breast, 

And remember till death, all Tuspaquin's 
behest; 

And, if you should perish before it's com- 
plete 

Then of your associates it's furtherance 
entreat. 

XXV. 

'The few of the Foxes that yet do re- 
main. 

With those of the Sacs that are brothers 
in pain. 

Will hear from your lips of the white 
man's content. 

While seeking for wampum, that's all of 
his bent, 

When I have bet?n laid in a warrior's re- 
pose, 

Relieved from a life of misfortunes and 
woes. 



DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 23 



And eased from the wound thiit is rack- 
ing my frame, 

That the breast of my Mother her own 
will reclaim. 

Then you must return to the fort on the 
Isle: 

With cunning- their braves from its safe- 
ty beguile. 

And take in revenge for the scalp they 
have won 

The locks from the head of some dearly 
loved son. 

Whose mother will wait for the coming 
in vain 

Of him who will nevermore come home 
again. 

And hang at your belt of these trophies 
of blood 

Three more for Tuspaquin, your uncle, 
who would 



24 S A S S A C U S U It 



Be fighting beside you and claim all his 

own, 
But that by their missiles his spirit is 

flown. 

XXVI. 

"But there is another charge, greater 

to me 
Than life and its troubles, or death seems 

to be. 
When I was a youth that roamed free in 

the wild. 
Your mother first taught you the steps of 

a child. 
But when I had battled the wolf in its 

lair; 
And wore as my trophies the claws of the 

bear, 
The chieftains were proud of the youth 

they had known, 
And counted me one in the ranks of their 

own. 



DEATH OF CAFT CALLAWAY. 



'Twas then that I swore that my living 

should be 
My father to follow— my people to free 
From all of the enemies them that beset, 
And claim but the fame that such honors 

beget. 

xxvn. 
"There dwelt in the wigw^amof Thebas, 

her sire, 
A maiden as fair as is Fancy's desire. 
The heart of Tuspaquin was drawn by 

her face. 
And yearned that she find in his wigwam 

a place. 
But he knew not a way that his passion 

could name, 
For her father was great as a sachem of 

fame. 
But Teweelema smiled when he won in 

the chase: 



*^^ i^ A S S A <' U S O It 

At the powwow was pleased when she 
looked on his face. 

When the war party gathered to vie in 
the dance, 

She was close to the ring- with encourag- 
ing glance; 

And her eyes praised him much when the 
dancing was done. 

And her smile showed her glad when 
Tuspaquin had won. 
XXVIII. 

"The scalps that he took won him 

fame in the town, 
x'\nd the people received him a brave of 

renown. 
So he set up the rocks where Teweel- 

ema walked, 
As the wont of the braves v/hen their 

hearts' spirits talked; 
And he lay in the shade when she past 

in the eve 



DEATH OF CAF'T CALLAWAY. 27 



As he hoped a return of his love to re- 
ceive. 

Her maidens were with her and past on 
before, 

Not seeing the rocks that their robes 
rustled o'er. 

Teweeiema came with the tread of a fay 

And knelt by the side of the rocks by the 
way. 

His totem upon them could plainly be 
seen, 

And v/ith unconcerned conciousness v/alk- 
ed she between, 

XXIX. 

' 'Then Thebas was gracious and called 
me his son, 
Saying future must shade o'er the past I 
had done. 

XXX. 

"So off to the hunt that my lodge 
might be filled 



28 S A S S x\ C U !? OK 



To furnish Teweelema game I had killed: 

With the strength of the tril>e went I off 
to the West, 

Or my soul had been then with Teweel- 
ema blest: 

For up from the South came the demons 
of flame 

To slay squaws and children and boast of 

the shame. 

Had I but have been there my treasure 
to guard, 

The white devils sure would have found 
it more hard. 

For I with Teweelema there would have 
died. 

Or saved her for'er in my lodge to abide. 
But the arm that would save was a wan- 
derer far, 

And Teweelema died as a victim of war. 
xxxi. 
"A soldier that stood in the midst of 
the fray 



DEATH OF CAJ:'"r CALLAWAY. 29 



Was a prisoner of mine at a much later 

day. 
The fagots that burned round the stake 

where he stood 
Loosed his tongue till he told all the story 

he could. 
And he said that a 'Xongknife" who lead 

in the fight 
Slew the squaw of my heart with a sword 

in his sight 
And he told that she stood o'er the form 

of her sire, 
While the world seemed to burn with the 

palefaces' fire; 
And she drew back the bow that her 

father's cold hand 
Nevermore could bestring in defense of 

his land, 
Till the home of her race was alive with 

the foe. 



30 S A S S A C U fc> OK 



And her few warrior kin were in death 

lying low, 
When the horse of the white fiend was 

reined by her side, 
And a blow from his sword smote her 

down where she died. 

XXXII. 

"The white men I loathed with the ut- 
termost hate, 
But then I detested with rancor to sate, 
As full in my heart as its furies could 

dwell— 
As deep in my soul as the palefaces' hell 
E'en now in my breast is a tempest of ire, 
Consuming my soul like a furnace ofrfire. 
Which burns with a fury that nothing can 

flood 
Save only the flow of that soldier's life- 
blood. 

XXXIII. 

"It cannot be quenched; my strength 
lessens fast. 



iJEAJ H OF CAF'T (.^ALLAVVAV . 31 

And all of my troubley will quickly be 

past. 

XXXIV. 

"That I may rest undisturbed over 

there, 
Where Tevs-eelema's waiting my wigwam 

to share, 
Take on to yourself all the vows I have 

given, 
And yet claim the scalplock for which I 

have striven. 

XXXV. 

"In L'Outre Isle Fort, where the white 

warriors stay, 
There lives this bold Captain, they call 

Callaway. 
First learn you the man, then capture the 

prize 
Which Death in its hurry myown self 

denies." 



Part hi. 

VENGEAMOJ?:. 
XXXVI. 

SHE numbing lips refused to move, 
Alike if hate or love approve. 

And sinking' from his friend away 
The dying v/arrior fainting lay. 
All thru the chilly hours of night, 
Lone Sassacus in murky light, 
Sat by his listless kinsman's form. 
That Death would chill and Life would 

v'arm. 
The calm upon his patient face 
Had never borne a single trace 
To shov/ a thought of pride or pain— 
A fear of loss or hope of gain. 
He knew the steady hand of Death, 
Nor waited it with bated breath. 



S A S S A U S <J K 



XXXVII. 

To him existence was a thought 
That facts of change but little fraught 
V/ith more of weight, for mattered slight- 
Whatever came to him was right. 

XXXVIII. 

Still thus he sat when day begun 
Showed in the east the risen sun. 
And v/rapt the hills, so vague at night. 
In mystic robes of amber light. 
But ere the zenith's path it trod, 
Tuspaquin's soul was with his God. 
But Sassacus no sorrow said 
When paying homage due his dead; 
Still held the same grim nerve of steel 
That knows of naught but how to feel, 
Until the grave was wholly made. 
With stone for pick and stick for spade. 
Then placed the warrior on his knee, 
As his Wicondah he would see; 
The unstrung bow is near his hand. 



DEATH OF CAF'T CALLAWAi. 1.0 



And close the sheaths oi arrows stand. 
And last the dog, whose faithful heart 
No tempting" home could ever part 
From him, whose wanders in the wood 
Had shared with love his daily food, 
Was brought and laid upon the bier. 
That savage nature lifted here, 
And sacrificed to ignorant creed 
That taught his master's future need. 

XXXIX. 

Each tiny stone again replaced, 
And every mark of man effaced, 
That no profaning alier* could 
Pollute this sanctum of the wood. 
Lone Sassacus about the mould 
That did his last true kinsman hold. 
Began his people's mournful lay 
To aid the spirit on its way, 
And danced, not with the eager zest 
Of him with happy feelings blest, 
But with the doleful, measured tread 



36 s A s s A c u s on 



Of him who mourned for honored dead, 
While circling round and round the cone 
That soon he needs must leave alone. 

XL. 

The hours wore on in quiet, save 
The labored breathing of the brave. 
Till quite exhaused, he, at length. 
Succumbed to strain beyond his strength^ 
And sank upon the chilly ground 
Beside the leaf obscured mound. 

XLI. 

The gas beladen winds of night 
Upon him cast their breath of blight 
Before he left the sacred place 
That held the last one of his race. 
Then, rising from his humble seat, 
Uneasy on his labored feet, 
Into his wigwam's shadows deep, 
He made his way for rest and sleep. 

XLII. 

The months went by. The summer 
spread 



JJEATH UF OAJf'T OALLAWAY. 37 



Her garlands o'er the ranks of dead. 

And still again bleak Winter's sleet 

Drove man and beast to such retreat 

As Nature or as cunning hand 

Had made or placed at their command. 

And now the legions of the South 

Were forcing back the North with drou^ 

Of storms and dearth of cold, 

To seek a refuge in its fold 

Among the ^jlacier regions fell, 

Of which the Norsemen's legends tell; 

And spreading as their host advanced 

The gifts of Ceres, that enhanced 

The beauty of the natural wild. 

Or ceased the yearnings of her child. 

But still the hand of Sassacus 

Withheld its vengeance of abuse. 

That thru the cruelties of the past 

Had made him of his tribe the last. 

XLIII. 
But while the months were going by, 



S A S S A C U S II 



A.nd nothing gave the scouter's eye 

A. hint of danger near at hand, 

Nor of a foeman in the land, 

This injured brave among his kin 

Was stirring up against the sin 

The whites committed on their tribe, 

Their hearts with word and threat to 

bribe, 
Till every lad who strung a bow 
Was numbered to the fight to go; 
And there to give up hope and life 
Amid the fury of the strife, 
That sure must mark the fmal stand 
Of Foxes for their native land. 
And like Leonidas of old. 
He swore them life and hope to hold 
Of less account than noble death. 
That smote its foe with latest breath; 
And count that life the greatest boast, 
Which cost its enemies the most. 



DiiATH OF OAF'T CALLAWAY. 39 



XLIV. 

'Twas thus that when the herald came, 
His master's message to proclaim, 
There gathered from the hill and fen 
A savage host of painted men— 
The tribal princes— great and small — 
And of the, primal power all. 

XLV. 

The battle feast was duly made 
Beneath the wildwood's friendly shade. 
Won scalps upon a stationed lance 
Stood in the middle of the dance, 
While warriors bold and brave and true, 
Of Indians' every painted hue, 
Around it circled with the song 
That failing breath would fain prolong. 

XLVI. 

About the ring in solemn foi-m, 
The old men, squaws and children sv/arm, 
To add devotion to the dance 
With stoic face and silent glance. 



40 SASSACUS OK 



XLVII. 

The feasting ended, dancing o'er, 
The thirst for blood delays no more. 
With rifles swung upon their backs, 
Each follows in the leader's tracks. 
As, tomahawk in lifted hand, 
Proclaims he sovereignty of land 
His fathers once did rule supreme 
O'er wooded hill and prairie stream, 
While chanting in a cadence pure 
The miseries his tribe endure. 
He circles round the chosen tree, 
While shouting in barbaric glee 
The war song of his comrade kind, 
And chips the war block from the rind. 
Which each succeeding imitates. 
Whose self appraising prowess rates 
Him ablebodied, fierce and bold 
Enough his wonted nam.e to hold, 
Till each one of the painted braves 
His hatchet's signet deep engraves 



DEATH iJt' CAf'-r OALLAWAY. 41 

Upon the oak king's noble bole— 
A mimic of its future role. 
Then filing in their single line. 
They thru the forest's deepness twine, 
While wrapt in dense a silence now 
As loud had been their savage vow, 
When, lately forming for the fray, 
They would their totem's genus pray. 

XLVIII. 

So, silently as shades, they pick 

Their road across cold Iowa 

And thru Missouri day by day 
Until they camped in timber thick 
Anear a point called L' Outre Lick. 

XLIX. 

While here they temporary staid. 
Their fires alone by night they made, 
Lest some one of the foeman's band 
The evidence should understand. 
And their endeavors countermeet. 
To thus their efforts all defeat. 



42 SASSACUS OR 



L. 

The game they took for hunger's pain. 
With stealthy shaft and bow was slain, 
While trusted braves of proven skill 
Were scouting the adjacent hill, 
And to the South a band of few 
Went to the soldiers post review, 
LI. 

They found the white men unalarmed. 
The stock had been so long unharmed, 
By men or beasts, that for the while. 
They grazed, scarce guarded, on the wild; 
While in the fort the soldiers gay 
Caroused the night and slept the day: 

LII. 

The pioneers who feared attack. 
And from their claims had fallen back 
Upon the fort, to find retreat 
From dangers out too great to meet, 
While news had spread on every hand 
Of wagings of an Indian band, 



DEATH OF CAt'l CALLAWAY. 48 

Were now content to venture out 
Within the ranges of their scout, 
And preparation make to raise 
The coming summer's crop of maize; 
And all were resting at an ease 
The Indian's brightest hope to please. 
LIIL 
A negro boy out with the herd 
Was from his meditation stirred 
By sudden neighs and snorts of fear 
Of unseen dangers in the rear. 

LIV. 

This lad was not the one to stand 
Where braver hearts might reprimand, 
But seized the nearest frightened horse 
To ride unbridled o'er the course 
The horse in flight was sure to take, 
As quickest way the fort to make. 
He did not think the herd would need 
A care that would his way impede. 
But left their course themselves to choose, 



44 SASSACUS OK 



To not himself a moment lose. 
And well he did not underrate 
The dangers to procrastinate. 
For as he mounted for the race 
The Indian scouts essayed a chase. 
The lad was riding, howe'er well 
There now remains no one to tell, 
But on the fact he rode his best 
No earnest doubt can ever rest. 
He neared the fort with blearing eyes, 
Announced by indescriptive cries, 
And with the speed, if not the grace, 
Of runners of a champion race. 
This dusky Gilpin, riding hard. 
Was sighted by the gateway guard, 
Who ran to let him thru the gate 
But there to find his care too late. 
For round the fort at highest speed 
The frightened negro urged his steed. 
And by a circle meant to find 
An entrance on the postern line. 



DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAW A Y. 45 

The watching guard threw out the gate, 
When in he rushed with speed so great, 
His horse unchecked, his senses gone, 
The two in fright rushed madly on. 
Until, with awful thud and fall, 
They ran against the other wall. 
The horse was killed; the rider's stun 
Prevented telling what was done. 
Until the scouts were sent to see. 
And found of horses missing three. 
Of volunteers were formed a band 
In Captain Callaway's command. 
And second officer of rank, 
Lieutenant Rigg, an honest, frank, 
Courageous man, whose thoughtful care 
With bravery claimed an equal share, 
The horses quickly to pursue, 
And Indians of their theft to rue. 

LV. 

The Indians, fearful of attack. 
When near the fort, retreated back 



46 SAS8ACUS UK 

Within the wood to where they found 
The three the herd had past around, 
And took them on to strengthen forces 
A draw pursuit out for the horses, 

LVI. 

The melted snow had soaked the plain, 
Which now, augmented with a rain. 
Had flooded every little creek 
The day the soldiers went to seek 
The horses, that they little knew 
Were but to tole them to pursue. 
But swimming thru the current deep, 
And wading o'er the boggy seep, 
They gave no heed to road nor day. 
But closely followed on the way 
The Indian thieves had gone before. 
And broke the twining wild vines o'er, 

LVII. 

The Indians reached their party's camp. 
And left the horses there to tramp 
About their lariats' lengths to graze, 



DEATH Uf <JAi" 1 oALLAUAY. .j? 



While they dispersed as many ways, 
To gather in the soldiers' rear 
But leave no sign of going there. 

LVIII. 
They met in scouted rendezvous 
Upon a hill of distant viev^, 
And left a messenger and spy 
The soldiers' movements to descry: 
While all remainder of the band 
Descended to the bottom land, 
Across its reeking, doubtful bogs 
Of lapping growth and rotting logs, 
And o'er the wildly dashing flood, 
Where Prairie Fork in deepest wood 
Rushed madly on to join its flow^ 
With Ti' Outre Creek not far below. 
Then down the southern timbered bank, 
With bramble mat all soaked and dank. 
Until the junction of the two 
Roared dully at their eastern view, 
And there secreted in the shade 



48 SASSACUS OR 

Of matted vines on timbered glade, 
They waited with a savage lust 
The coming they did not mistrust, 
Well knowing that the soldier's fear 
Was little as his cunning care. 

LIX. 

Anon from Indian watcher's throat. 
Repeated, came some wild bird's note, 
That broke upon the misty air 
As cadence of some wild despair, 
And floated off so weirdly shrill 
It left the calm more painful still. 
But not a trace of aught to tell 
The hidden dangers that it held. 

LX. 

At length the cooing of a dove 
Came softly o'er the flood above, 
And told the patient watchers there 
Success would crown their subtle care. 
An owlet hooting further on 
Announced the course the foe had gone; 



DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 49 



And on the trail and just below 
The sullen cawing of a crow 
Declared the soldiers coming' back 
Without suspicion of attack. 

LXL 

Lieutenant Rigg, with wise intent, 
Objected to the way they went, 
And asked to go another way, 
For fear an ambush on this lay. 
But Callaway, superior. 
Refused this care of Indian war, 
And modifying rather strong 
With interjections all along, 
Declared he would that way return 
Inspite of all it might concern 
Of Indian braves or brothers known 
To be of some far warmer zone. 

LXIL 

So, when the horses were secured, 
And some repast for men procured. 
They faced about to struggle thru 



3ASSACUS OR 



The wild debris they too well knew 
Must be repast in going home 
Across the rugged way they'd come. 
In careless rank they toiled on 
By snaaking wolf and startled fav/n. 
Till all their fears were set at ease, 
By seeing wild game such as these 
Had not been frightened from the trail 
VvHiich omen woodsmen seldom fail. 
But no one ynessed the Indians' way 
Around for this sole purpose lay. 

LXIII. 

The stolen horses led the van, 
Each haltered, singly, by a man 
Who slung his gun upon his back 
To keep his beast within the track. 

LXIV. 

McDermid and McMullin, two. 
And then came Hutchins into view, 
And next the Captain, all alone. 
Rode slowlv on his stylish I'oan. 



DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 51 



LXV. 

The three that reached the margin first 
Allowed their beasts to quench their 

thirst, 
Then boldly breasting in the flood, 
They swam their horses to the wood, 
That grew along the other side 
Down even to the swelling tide. 

LXVL 

McDermid, who was first to go. 
And Hutchins, who was third in row, 
Had long been enemies in blood. 
And sworn to death as soon as should 
Enlistment to attend the state 
Allow them to their malice sate. 
Their terms were almost now expired; 
So each the other's death desired. 
And waited with a hate intense 
The day to come a few months hence. 
Lxvn. 

They reached and climbed the slimy 

bank. 



52 S A S S A C U S OR 



Where to their knees the horses sank 
In vicious mud, and struggled hard 
Against the forces to retard, 
When, with a sulph'rous tainted breath. 
The wood v/as ht with flames of death. 
And each one of the foremost three 
Was dashed into eternity 
Vv^'ithout the warning of a word. 
And ere their kitent senses stirred 
With thoughts of the impending doom. 
That oped the doorway of their tomb. 

LXVIII. 

i'roud SassacLis was in a rage 
That those before him shoukl engage 
The foremost of the foeman's band 
Before he had secured the man. 
Whose death had been the sole intent 
On which these warriors all were lient. 
Bui, hoping still to make the best 
Of disregard to his behest, 
He rushed upon the ready slain. 



DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 53 

And ordered back his savage train, 
To draw the soldiers to attack, 
This hasty move to counteract. 

LXIX. 

But such a care was not his need, 
For Callaway deigned not to heed 
The lurking danger on ahead. 
But forward spurred his horse instead. 

LXX. 

The rank and file, more in the rear, 
Were ordered up to succor here. 
And ran to cover by the way 
To fight in turn as fought were they. 
And then retreated, sure but slow, 
Around the ambush there to go; 
For no more could they hope to save 
Their Captain, less discreet than brave. 

LXXL 

Before the stream he halfway crossed, 
His wounded horse was sunk and lost, 
And, letting loose, he tried to swim, 



54 S A S S A C U S OR 



But soon a shaft had wounded him. 
Howe'er he reached the muddy land 
And down beside the current ran. 
But Sassacus was at his heel 
With lifted arm and flashing steel, 
So, seeing that escape seemed vain. 
He urged himself to greater strain, 
His gun into the current threw 
To hide from those who did pursue; 
And, then with one wild hope supreme. 
He cast himself into the stream. 
And strove to cross its surging tide 
To join his m^en at other side. 
When, just as if Fate had decreed 
To help him in his direst need, 
Lieutenant Rigg his effort spied, 
And to his crossing cover tried. 
His arm was firm, his shot as true, 
Which plov.-ed the redman's shoulder thru, 
And Sassacus sank to the ground, 
Just as his vengeance thought had found. 



DEA TH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. o5 

A moment's dizzy, fierce despair 
That he should lose a chance so fair, 
Rushed o'er him as he felt the shock, 
That hurled him back upon the rock. 
But there, in reach of v/here he lay, 
A dead man's gun was thrown away, 
And seizing it with savage glee, 
He rose upon a trembling knee, 
Across the boulder at his face 
Secured the gun a resting place, 
And with deliberation killed 
The man, whose death his vengeance 
filled. 

Lxxn. 
Altho a moment scarce had flown 
To bear the Captain's dying groan 
Up to a court of higher powers 
Than any equities of ours, 
When thru his lungs another shot 
Destroyed the life the first had not; 
His mind was iilled with sweetest joy 



56 SASSACUS OR 



That savage souls can e'er employ; 
And, looking on the whirling flood 
Still tinted with its streaks of blood, 
His face assumed its last repose. 
His eyes triumphantly he closed. 
And, sinking back, his race was run. 
At last, Tuspaquin's vow was done. 



DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 57 



Part iv. 

DESTINY. 

Lxxin. 

She death of Sassacus affright 
Did bring his allies of the fight; 
And, as a ray dies with its source, 
Their valor fainted at his corse. 
The wood their dusky figures shield 
That moment, and they quit the field. 
No Indian face again was seen; 
By fending oak, thru leafy screen; 
Nor tread nor shot nor battle whoop 
Dismayed the now retreating troop. 
Safely around the ambush, led 
By wary scout whose feline tread 
Crushed not the stems on which it fell, 
They, undisturbed, returned to tell 
Their loss, and reinforcements head 
To seek the bodies of their dead. 

LXXIV, 

Deployed in battle in the wood. 



58 SASSACUS OR 



Two members of the squad were lost, 
And, lone, must do the best they could, 
Avoiding all the the savage host. 

LXXV. 

No clew was ever found to fate 
Of private Scott; if soon or late, 
He fell a victim to the foe. 
What hope or fear; what pain or woe 
He bore, no ear has ever heard. 
No wildwood oracle a word 
Has ever given; sealed fore'er 
His story. On his grave no tear 
May fall. Then let his peaceful rest 
Be no less calm and fully blest 
Than his who sleeps in richest tomb 
Of aged cathedral's honored gloom. 

LXXVI. 

But private Wolfe escaped unharmed 
On fleeing feet bewinged with fear 
That left his comrades far arear. 
And old fort Clement sore alarmed 



DEATH OF CAr'T CALLAWAY. 59 



With news that Callaway was dead, 
And, save himself, the troops he led. 
But eve's return of other ten. 
Left time to mourn these five brave men. 
* * ^ ■>■ 

At the retreat the Indians came 

Their treasured trophies, scalps, to claim. 

They found the bodies of the three. 

And horribly dismembered them; 
The limbs beswung on rock and tree. 

They left as monument most grim. 
Lxxvn. 
But selfishly their marching train 
Was cumbered with their hurt and slain, 
Until the Boone's Lick Trail they quit 
Within the prairie's edge a bit. 
But there they scoopt a shallow grave 
To hold the last true Pequot brave. 
And as a headstone to it set 

A slender stick beneath the grass. 
Just here some autumn hunters met, 



60 SASS A CUS OR 

And stopt the evening hours to pass. 
A blade marked peg ensnared the eye; 
A query called the campers nigh. 
The peg withdrawn and hand put down 
Disclosed an empty human crown. 

LXXVIII. 

The campers broke the even's rest, 
And marched with early morning's zest, 
Preferring much the night time's use 
To sleeping with poor Sassacus. 

LXXIX, 

The prairie vines his laurels weathe; 
Above his bed the light winds breathe 
A soft requiem. The winter builds 
A gem set tomb, and storm wind fills 
Its hall with boisterous wail and rout 
The glories of his name to shout. 
But fair or foul, his calm repose 
Is undisturbed by these and those. 
Thru day and night, 'neath shine and 
shade. 



^^ 




DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 61 



Return to dust alike is made: 

Nor Summers's calm, nor winter's rave, 

Can change the fiat of the grave. 

LXXX. 

Well might the simple savage tune 
His triumph to his noblest grace. 
That scion of the line of Boone 
Should fall a victim to his race; 
E'en gladder still the remnant be, 
That Daniel's days are full, and he 
Must wait in inglenook, while run 
The tears for loved Jamima's son. 

LXXXI. 

Tho James was dead, his grandslre old. 
Their spirit burned full many fold 
In lives of those who came to fill 
Their places at Time's ceaseless mill. 
And destined was the Indian race 
To fitter lives to yield its place; 
Nor heart nor hand might hope to fend 
It from destruction in the end. 



62 S A S S A C U S R 



LXXXII. 

With April's tears the troops returned 
In anger, that more fiercely burned 
When they their comrades' bodies found 
So strewn about the battle ground. 
In care their loving hands regained 
Each particle that still remained; 
A hollow with their weapons scoopt, 
In which the three, confusedly groupt, 
Were placed, and over all was laid 
The kindred dust with saber-spade, 
To wait God's Vv-ill to reassign 
Each member to its fellow kind. 

LXXXIII. 

Beneath the ivy's slender thread, 
And poisonoak's deeprooted bed, 
With branch and bramble's tangled mat. 
They lie, where kindly comrades, that 
The last sad rites of earth would pay, 
Their mangled corses laid avv^ay; 
All anger cooled; all hatred eased; 



DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 



Life's enemies in death appeased, 
Each tho't the world for both too small, 
Now sleep within a common wall 

Of changeless clay in equal plight. 
Nor word nor threat their slumber frets, 
Where ceaseless silence peace begets; 
Nor smile nor tear nor hope nor fear 
Upon their waiting spirits wear, 
Thruout the rest of their long night. 

LXXXIV. 

Still shuns the farmer's shear their sod, 
Nor prunes their laurels hook nor blade, 

Where Nature weaves above their clod 
The sward that once their bier was 
made. 

No stranger hand nor alien mind 

Has e'er profaned this soldier's shrine. 

LXXXV. 

And. He who paints the rose's breast. 
Sweetens the violet's breath; 
He, also, crowns the mortal, guest 



64 SASSACUSOR 



Of Love thru pains of death. 
And as He guards the mould of clay, 

The soul, as well, He keeps; 
Will, sometime, justify His way, 

Beyond where Reason weeps. 
When we shall see as we are seen, 
All equity will lie between 
Life's Author and the creature, man, 
To whom God grants all justice can. 

LXXXVI. 

Beside the river's suaging flow 

The Captain's body lay. 
Suspended by the willows low 

Above the current's way. 
His brother's hand with care removed 
The form that once that care approved, 
But, then, no favor felt, nor slight 
Rebuked--long still in death's deep night. 
Directly up the joining hill. 
They bore him, where a little rill 
Had dug its groove, thru vears the thrall 



DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY. 65 



Of mighty Ocean's distant call. 
And where they conquered all the steep, 
They laid him for Time's final sleep. 
The raindrops there first hear command 
To take their journey overland; 
There first the flowers see the sun, 
When morning has the day begun; 
And there the birds and bees may sing 
Their welcome to the maiden spring; 
Nor call nor light nor sound can cheer 
The waiting sleeper's vigil drear. 



Part. V. 

RF.VELATTON. 

LXXXVII. 

the times now past, that intervene 
^That day and this now throw be. 

tween 

Vicissitudes of five score years, 
That all its prospects greatly veers 
From wild, unkept and virgin wastes 
To forms that harmonize the taste? 
Of Europe's better favored sons. 

LXXXVIII. 

The bear no longer over runs 
The haunts his habits made his own; 
Its native birds have ever flown 
The wood of their nativity. 

The noble bison of the chase 
And light, swift deer no more we see. 

Each, all have gone to join the race 



SASSACUS OR 



For whose support they seem to be, 
And with whose place and mode of life 
Their own wild instincts found no strife. 
The beaver builds no more his dam 
Where once his hundred workmen swam; 
The otter slides no more are found, 
Where once their number did abound; 
And with them all the higher class 
Of animals have seemed to pass, 
As goes the shadow with the light 
That fades when but a moment bright, 
Or, like the jack-o-lantern pale, 
That as you near it seems to fail. 

LXXXIX. 

The virent slopes of timbered hills 
The ringing woodman's axe now fills, 
And thru the valleys, erst so dank, 
Flourish the farmer's riches rank. 
From hill to hill the wheat and inaize 
Wave through the sunny summer days; 
And when the autumn time is come, 



"^iil 



DEATH OP CAP'T CALLAWAY. 69 



Are gathered to the harvest home. 
The cry of plowman to their teams, 
When Spring returns its balmy beams; 
The bleat of sheep, the low of kine, 
And neigh of horse their tones combine, 
And, joining with the merry bell. 
The story of the valley tell. 
xc. 
But on the hill a lone waste keeps 
Its vigils where the hero sleeps; 
And rattling bough, decaying bole. 
Fast sinking to their former mould, 
Show where the woodman's edged blade 
Its devastation sheer has made. 
But, tho the sepulcher unkept 
Lie 'mid the waste of stranger men. 
Whose lips ne'er praised nor eyes have 

wept 
The lives of those whose times have been 
Before they came themselves to feci 
The pangs or joy of woe or weal, 



70 S A S S A C U S OR 



There is advancement. Act and thougfht 
Up to a higher plane have brought 
The population of its ground 
Than in the previous race was found. 
Altho Deception's haughty train 
Seems in its midst a holt to gain, 
And wilder follies grow apace 
Than should be countenanced in the race, 
Each day the former would improve. 
And upward still we surely move, 
xci. 

The arm of strength that drev/ the bow, 
To deal in vengeance mortal blow. 
Now Vvields the hammer or the blade. 
The pen of thought or goods of trade, 
And raises to a higher plane, 
Where savage hatred would profane. 
XCII. 

The strength of thought, the force of 
will, 
That hunted through a life time, still 



DEATH OF CAP'T CALLAWAY . 71 

Devoted to the cause of hate 
Until that cause in blood could sate, 
Now, turn we in another way, 
And give the nobler passions sway. 
xcin. 

In short, the same old soul we keep. 
That in the Indian's breast did leap, 
The same heart's throb of love and hate, 
The same great thirst to satiate; 
The same deep passions to control, 
The same wild fancies to unfold. 
The same sweet love of joy and peace. 
The same strong yearning for release; 
And but one thing he never got 
Makes us to be what he was not; 
And all this happy land of ours. 
So full of sunshine, love and flowers. 

We have to claim in every sod, 
Because in all its walks and bowers. 

We recognize THERE IS A GOD. 



JUL 3 1912 



^^^mmkm' 



